


Make A Move

by Seefin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Kissing in cars, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Slice of Life, motorway service stations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seefin/pseuds/Seefin
Summary: There are one hundred and fifty miles left to go until London, they're just north of Birmingham on Harry’s least favourite motorway, and Draco is going over the speed limit. Not by very much, but enough that Harry can tell he’s angry or upset about something. His hands are clenched hard around the brown leather steering wheel, his knuckles white. Harry reaches his hand over the gearstick and presses his fingers to them, gently. Draco's hands are cold.





	Make A Move

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Draco’s car is an orange fixed-roof MGB GT and is actually my dream car, Harry Potter, so maybe think about people’s feelings before you go calling it shitty  
> 2\. this is very unbetaed  
> 3\. this was partly inspired by [this](https://dddraconis.tumblr.com/post/164895633804/how-about-something-with-drarry-and-cars-maybe#notes) by [aideomai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aideomai/pseuds/aideomai), who first made me think about Draco/cars

There are one hundred and fifty miles left to go until London, they're just north of Birmingham on Harry’s least favourite motorway, and Draco is going over the speed limit. Not by very much, but enough that Harry can tell he’s angry or upset about something. His hands are clenched hard around the brown leather steering wheel, his knuckles white. Harry reaches his hand over the gearstick and presses his fingers to them, gently. Draco's hands are cold.

“I’m driving,” Draco says, and shifts so that Harry isn’t touching him anymore. The car smells like freesias and foliage; there’s a bouquet crammed into the space between their seats, and Harry’s been shivering since Capel Curig, when the vents on the passenger side of the car spluttered a couple of times and then unceremoniously stopped working.

Harry doesn’t reply, and puts his hands back into his lap, tucking them in between his thighs in the hope that they’ll stop shaking. He’s cast multiple heating charms, but the car is old and leaky and doesn’t hold them for very long before the heat starts to bleed out through the gaps where the windows won’t go all the way up. He turns to look outside, at the cars passing on the other side of the road. They’ve been in the fast lane for miles, which Harry didn’t think was allowed, but he’s not the one who passed his test first time. He's not the one who passed his test at all, actually.

The light in the sky is fading, dark blue ahead of them fading into the pale gold Harry can see in his wing mirror, long streaks of wispy cloud high above the horizon, lit up from beneath with the last of the sunlight. It would be a beautiful sunset on the beach tonight, he bets. Luna and Ginny are probably out in it now, clearing up bottles from their garden and listening to the waves crash on the beach, unseen through the trees.

The other night Harry went down to the shore with his bottle of beer, and some biscuits in his pocket stolen from the tin on the top shelf in their kitchen. The sky had been lilac almost, grey and clear and velvety. He could have sworn he’d seen the coast of Ireland across the water, but it had turned out to be dark clouds in the end, rolling in from the sea. It had stormed that night, and Harry had listened to the panes of glass rattle in the window, lying awake in the guest bedroom with Draco sound asleep beside him.

He puts his forehead to the window now, and it’s freezing.

Draco flicks his indicator on and switches lanes. “We need petrol,” he says, eyes glancing up to the rearview mirror and then back down again. Harry watches him, his pale face flashing under the passing lampposts. He changes lanes again, too quickly, and comes off at the sign for the service station, pulling up beside the petrol pump. The radio turns off when he stops the engine, cutting out halfway through an old song that Harry hadn't recognised, and the car is suddenly silent.

“Do you want me to fill up?” Harry asks. He usually does that while Draco goes inside to look at sweets and hang around until it’s time to pay.

Draco reaches across him into the glove compartment for his wallet, and then gets out of the car without saying anything. Harry sits still for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then gets out after him. He tries to shut the door but it doesn't stick properly, just swings open again and hits him painfully in the leg.

“Fuck,” Harry says, and closes the door again, more deliberately this time.

Draco doesn’t even look at him from where he’s watching the numbers on the display tick upwards, but he does say: “Have a bit of care, please.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault your car is so incredibly shitty, is it.”

Draco does look at him then, eyes cold in a way that makes Harry feel very far away from him. “Potter,” he says, “fuck off for a bit, will you?”

“Seriously,” Harry says, doubling down pointlessly. “You couldn’t have splashed out for a car that wasn’t in its fucking death throes?”

“Yes,” Draco replies, turning away again. “Because I know so much about cars. You’re the muggle, shouldn't you know about that kind of thing?”

“Oh fuck you,” Harry says, and starts to walk away.

“You helped pick it,” Draco calls after him, but Harry's already halfway to the door and can't be bothered with replying.

Harry goes straight to the bathroom once he’s inside, making his way past a couple of fast food restaurants, a WHSmith where the lights are flickering, and a row of vending machines. The place is pretty busy but when he turns the corner into the toilets there’s only two people in there. He goes into a cubicle and puts the lid down, then sits on it. The floor’s wet, and the air smells like piss.

He wonders how long he could sit here before Draco came to find him. He wonders if Draco would even bother, or if he’d just abandon Harry here in this crap service station. Harry would have to move into the adjacent Travelodge, would have to spend the rest of his days eating Burger King veggie burgers and watching people out of the window as he did so, parking their cars badly or running inside to the loos or trying to soothe their crying children. Harry’s pretty confident Draco wouldn’t do that to him, no matter how much of a bad mood he’s in.

Draco used to be unhappy a lot more often than he is now, but Harry still doesn’t really know what sets him off. Usually he lets Draco moon about the house for a while and snap at him until he’s ready to talk again, or ready to be touched again. Harry doesn’t know how to do that in a two-seater car though. It’s not like he can escape into the study to read for a bit, or make Draco take the dog to the park so he can get some fresh air.

It’s been years, and Harry still doesn’t know how to deal with it when Draco doesn’t want to talk to him for an hour or two. And obviously, intellectually, he knows that starting an argument isn’t the answer, but sometimes he can’t help it.

Harry sits there for a little while, and then stands up to leave. He washes his hands on the way out even though he didn’t do anything, just because there’s more people in the loos now and he doesn’t want them to judge him. He goes to McDonalds and queues up behind a family with young kids, both of who seem pretty excited about their _Pokémon_ Happy Meal toys. Harry orders a chocolate milkshake for himself, and a strawberry one for Draco with a portion of chips, because Draco likes having really sweet and really salty things together. The guy behind the counter puts everything into a brown paper bag, the smell of which reminds Harry of summers in Surrey when he was old enough to go out by himself. He’d make a small portion of chips last the whole afternoon, a coffee the whole day, sitting in a park somewhere with a book or a newspaper. It had been better than spending the entire day trying to not make any noise in his own home.

He finds Draco in the book section of WHSmiths, reading the back of a sad-looking novel with flowers on the cover.

“Hey,” Harry says. “Are you ready to go?”

“No,” Draco replies shortly, his shoulders hunched. “I’m thinking about getting this book.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I got you a milkshake. And some chips, but I’ll eat them if you don’t want them.”

Draco stares down at the back of the book, but something in his face softens. “I want them,” he says, and then starts to read from the blurb. “Two childhood friends meet again as adults, years after difficult circumstances tore them apart.”

“Are you seriously going to get that?” Harry asks dubiously. It doesn’t sound like the kind of stuff Draco usually likes to read.

Draco shrugs. “Do you remember when we first met?” he asks, putting the book back on the shelf.

“Um, it was in Madam Malkin’s,” Harry says. “Before first year. Why? I don’t like, remember what we talked about or anything.”

“Did we talk?” Draco asks curiously. He leans toward Harry just a little, as he takes another book off the shelf.

“I think so,” Harry replies. He doesn’t remember. He barely remembers anything from back then, even though you’d think he would. “I’m sure we did.”

“I was probably a complete prick,” Draco says.

It’s likely he had been, so Harry doesn’t say anything. The lights are still flickering above them, awful yellow ones that make Draco’s hair look the colour of butter.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says quietly, even though there’s nobody around them.

“It’s okay,” Harry says easily. “We’re both tired, you’ve been driving for a couple of hours already. It’s okay.”

Draco leans into him again, touches him this time, his cheek against Harry’s shoulder. “I’m ready to go, I suppose,” he says, placing the book he’d been holding carefully back in its spot.

“I actually need to go to the toilet again,” Harry says. “I didn’t pee when I was in there before for some reason.”

“Merlin,” Draco says. “Alright, give me the food and I’ll meet you back at the car. I moved it away from the pump, by the way. It’s close to the exit.”

“Alright,” Harry says, and then stops for a second in order to dart in and kiss Draco’s cheek. He misses by about a mile, catching the shell of Draco’s ear, but it makes Draco smile anyway, pleased.

He finds the car in an empty corner of the car park beside a patch of pathetic looking grass where people probably let their dogs out to piss. Draco’s in the driver’s seat, watching him as he approaches.

“Okay,” Harry says, sitting down in the low seat, closing the door gently. “I’ll hold the chips while you drive, if you want to make a move.” The light above them had come on when he got in, but it's fading pretty quickly.

Draco snorts. “Make a move,” he repeats, and then leans across the space between their seats to kiss Harry on the mouth. The light finally clicks off and they’re in the dark, Draco’s mouth hot against his, his lips salty. Harry cups his face, his fingers splaying onto the side of Draco’s neck.

“Are you--” Harry says, between kisses, and then immediately loses his train of thought when Draco bites his bottom lip. “Are we-- would it be really bad if I gave you a handjob out here.”

“Yeah,” Draco says, breathless. “Really bad. Very illegal. We’ll just have to wait until we’re home.”

“I mean, there’s barely anybody here,” Harry points out. Draco nods, and kisses him again, deeper, pulling Harry closer to him. They’re probably crushing their nice flowers, but Harry can’t find it in himself to care very much.

Just as Harry’s thinking about undoing his jeans, another car pulls into a space close to them, their engine loud in the silence, cutting across the sound of their panting. They break apart, Draco sitting all the way back in his seat, his lips red. He laughs. “We’re definitely waiting now,” he says, watching out of the windscreen as a couple get out of their car, the lights flashing as they lock it and walk away.

Harry swallows, and adjusts himself in his jeans, Draco’s eyes following the movement.

“I really am sorry,” Draco says. He’s still looking at Harry’s erection, which kind of takes away from his statement a little bit.

“I know,” Harry tells him. “You just-- I don’t know. It’s frustrating, but. I know.”

“I feel like I’m always being mean to you,” Draco says helplessly. “I don’t know why.”

Harry laughs. “You’re-- you’re clearly not always being mean to me,” he points out. “You weren’t being mean to me for the last fifteen minutes.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I don’t want you to be unhappy,” he says. “I mean. Generally, of course, and specifically, in that I hate that I’m the one making you unhappy.”

“You’re not,” Harry blurts out. “Obviously sometimes you do, yeah. But-- I think I can be the same way. And I don’t know how to impress upon you that I’m very willing to be unhappy in five minute increments once a week when you’re being annoying as long as-- you love me and everything. Which you do. So it’s fine. Actually it’s better than fine, sorry, it’s the best. You’re the best.”

Draco raises his eyebrows, and Harry can tell how hard he’s trying not to look smug right now. He purses his lips, still red, and smirks. “Okay,” he says, and turns the ignition on. “Hold my chips,” he says, and puts them in Harry’s lap.

“Hold my chips?” Harry echoes, laughing. “Really? You’re such a prick. I take it all back, actually.”

“You can have some, if you want,” Draco offers, and he's laughing too, putting his hand high up on Harry’s thigh as he peels out of the carpark and back onto the motorway.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr x](http://seefin.tumblr.com/)


End file.
